piperknitsRN
Well-Known Member
So... I'm awake! At four thirty in the<< bad word>> morning for the second morning in a row. It's (obviously) still dark out. It's dark and dreary out, as is fitting for this time of day (and year, for that matter). I can hear the rain pattering on the roof. It's probably cold out, to boot. Yesterday we woke up to a hard ground frost, but at least the sun was out for a little while.
I took the liberty of washing out the litterpans this morning and providing the bun-buns with two fresh litterboxes full of awesome hay goodness, along with their morning pellets. I'm glad to see Simon eating more pellets. While I doubt he'll ever be as plump as his "lady friend," Olive--he's much too dainty of an eater--it's good to watch him fill out a little more. I think he was on the thin side when I got him three weeks ago (has it been that long?!) at the shelter.
Every time I look at him, I wonder about his past. Who "took care" of him before he was dumped at a shelter, then transferred to another, closer-to-me shelter? How was he treated? He seems friendly enough, but he flinches when you go to pet him. It could be his eyesight (he's a pink eyed New Zealand, or so they tell me. I honestly have to wonder. He's about four months old, I've had him for three weeks, and to be honest, while it looks like he's grown some in that time span, he doesn't look like he's going to make it to 9 or 10 lbs. Which wouldn't be the end of the world, of course. And he could be just stealth growing, and I won't notice how big he really is until one day I go to pick him and trim his nails and find he's really grown up into a big rabbit.)
I digress.
There is something very satisfying indeed about cleaning out the litterboxes and providing fresh ones. (I didn't say it was fun, note. I said it was satisfying. Two different things entirely.) I tried wood stove pellets in the second box, to see how it goes over. That's the box they pee the least in, so it can go without a change for a few more days than the primary box. I hope the aromatic smell isn't too much of a turn off for them, or else I turn out to own picky buns who can only do their bizzy on a certain kind of litter. It wouldn't be the first time it happened to some poor, unsuspecting person. (And by poor, I do mean that literally!)
I've been known to spoil my pets to some degree, but it would be nice not to pay $16 for freakin' newspaper pellets (the going rate of a 40lb bag of the stuff in my town) just because my bunnies' tushies can't be bothered with any else. I actually like the pelleted newspaper, but it was getting pricey, and the WSP's were only around $5 at Home Depot, so I "splurged" and bought 4 bags of the stuff, hoping they'd use it. WSP are seasonal around here, but I located a feed store about forty minutes from here were I can get horse bedding of a similar sort for about the same price. So, we'll see. Simon jumped in that litter box, then jumped out without touching the hay. I don't know if that "means" something, or not.
I was all set for doing a little more work on my current projects for school, but I'm t-i-r-e-d right now (I'm sure there's a correlation between the fatigue and getting up before dawn TWO FREAKING DAYS IN A ROW FOR SOME REASON I CAN'T ASCERTAIN) . And to be honest, school, which historically always has always engendered a certain sense of enormous accomplishment, pride, and learning, just. isn't. doing. it. for. me. this go around. I'm just not as engaged, and I'm questioning my decision to go back in the first place. Not the existential dilemma you want to be having in tough economic times (i.e., "Is going through all this pain and suffering really worth it? Do I really care?") It's kind of like a job you're paying out the wazoo to do, really, so if you're not 100% invested and gung-ho... it can't seem like... a bit of a drag, really.
But that's not the point of the blog.
The point of the blog is BUNNIES. My sweet, mischievous spoiled goofballs who bring me quite a lot of joy for such small creatures. (And more to the point, I'm always devoutly thankful at this time of year that I chose pets who live indoors and don't need to be walked in the rain, which is typically ever-present in the Pacific Northwest on any given, non-summer day--and more than a few summer days, too!) What is it about bunnies, any way? Sure, they're undeniably adorable, especially when they're up to their usual playful antics, but I sense a deeper connection with them on just about every level.
I love just watching them eat hay, for goodness sakes. Just watching them chew hay stem after hay stem in that cute, determined way they have, brings me an enormous amount of peace--it's like bunny zen! It's the closest someone as neurotic as me gets to meditation, so I'll take it. I've been blessed with two fairly non-destructive bunnies (knock on wood, because God knows they can learn how to be so in a blink of an eye!). The type you can leave out for hours and hours... even leave the house, and not come back and have it looked as if the Tasmanian devil ripped through your house on the way to a Looney-Tunes Cartoon.
Oh boy. This post got long on words and short on pictures. Oh well. Tis my blog, after all.
I took the liberty of washing out the litterpans this morning and providing the bun-buns with two fresh litterboxes full of awesome hay goodness, along with their morning pellets. I'm glad to see Simon eating more pellets. While I doubt he'll ever be as plump as his "lady friend," Olive--he's much too dainty of an eater--it's good to watch him fill out a little more. I think he was on the thin side when I got him three weeks ago (has it been that long?!) at the shelter.
Every time I look at him, I wonder about his past. Who "took care" of him before he was dumped at a shelter, then transferred to another, closer-to-me shelter? How was he treated? He seems friendly enough, but he flinches when you go to pet him. It could be his eyesight (he's a pink eyed New Zealand, or so they tell me. I honestly have to wonder. He's about four months old, I've had him for three weeks, and to be honest, while it looks like he's grown some in that time span, he doesn't look like he's going to make it to 9 or 10 lbs. Which wouldn't be the end of the world, of course. And he could be just stealth growing, and I won't notice how big he really is until one day I go to pick him and trim his nails and find he's really grown up into a big rabbit.)
I digress.
There is something very satisfying indeed about cleaning out the litterboxes and providing fresh ones. (I didn't say it was fun, note. I said it was satisfying. Two different things entirely.) I tried wood stove pellets in the second box, to see how it goes over. That's the box they pee the least in, so it can go without a change for a few more days than the primary box. I hope the aromatic smell isn't too much of a turn off for them, or else I turn out to own picky buns who can only do their bizzy on a certain kind of litter. It wouldn't be the first time it happened to some poor, unsuspecting person. (And by poor, I do mean that literally!)
I've been known to spoil my pets to some degree, but it would be nice not to pay $16 for freakin' newspaper pellets (the going rate of a 40lb bag of the stuff in my town) just because my bunnies' tushies can't be bothered with any else. I actually like the pelleted newspaper, but it was getting pricey, and the WSP's were only around $5 at Home Depot, so I "splurged" and bought 4 bags of the stuff, hoping they'd use it. WSP are seasonal around here, but I located a feed store about forty minutes from here were I can get horse bedding of a similar sort for about the same price. So, we'll see. Simon jumped in that litter box, then jumped out without touching the hay. I don't know if that "means" something, or not.
I was all set for doing a little more work on my current projects for school, but I'm t-i-r-e-d right now (I'm sure there's a correlation between the fatigue and getting up before dawn TWO FREAKING DAYS IN A ROW FOR SOME REASON I CAN'T ASCERTAIN) . And to be honest, school, which historically always has always engendered a certain sense of enormous accomplishment, pride, and learning, just. isn't. doing. it. for. me. this go around. I'm just not as engaged, and I'm questioning my decision to go back in the first place. Not the existential dilemma you want to be having in tough economic times (i.e., "Is going through all this pain and suffering really worth it? Do I really care?") It's kind of like a job you're paying out the wazoo to do, really, so if you're not 100% invested and gung-ho... it can't seem like... a bit of a drag, really.
But that's not the point of the blog.
The point of the blog is BUNNIES. My sweet, mischievous spoiled goofballs who bring me quite a lot of joy for such small creatures. (And more to the point, I'm always devoutly thankful at this time of year that I chose pets who live indoors and don't need to be walked in the rain, which is typically ever-present in the Pacific Northwest on any given, non-summer day--and more than a few summer days, too!) What is it about bunnies, any way? Sure, they're undeniably adorable, especially when they're up to their usual playful antics, but I sense a deeper connection with them on just about every level.
I love just watching them eat hay, for goodness sakes. Just watching them chew hay stem after hay stem in that cute, determined way they have, brings me an enormous amount of peace--it's like bunny zen! It's the closest someone as neurotic as me gets to meditation, so I'll take it. I've been blessed with two fairly non-destructive bunnies (knock on wood, because God knows they can learn how to be so in a blink of an eye!). The type you can leave out for hours and hours... even leave the house, and not come back and have it looked as if the Tasmanian devil ripped through your house on the way to a Looney-Tunes Cartoon.
Oh boy. This post got long on words and short on pictures. Oh well. Tis my blog, after all.
h34r2
